


A Man Could Sing It Again

by MarianneGreenleaf



Series: The Future is Bright: Paris and Beyond [6]
Category: The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Charming Victorian, Edwardian era, F/M, Flapper!Marian, Heavy Angst, Jazz Age, Literary Banter, Marian's girlhood bedroom, Miscarriage, Parlor passion, Pillow Talk, Psychological Trauma, Seductress!Marian, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Politics, Trading Innuendos, Unpacking emotional baggage, babies ever after, heartwarming domesticity, love bite, moonstruck madness, smexytimes, sweet & low
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-09-18 20:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20318761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarianneGreenleaf/pseuds/MarianneGreenleaf
Summary: Harold and Marian eagerly look forward to the birth of another child, and reflect on how close they came to expanding their family during that bout of moonstruck madness nearly ten years ago.





	1. Moonlight Delights

**Author's Note:**

> The long-awaited sequel to [A Man Could Sing It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/529748/chapters/938773).

_Selene watched him from on high, and slid from heaven to earth; for passionate love drew down the immortal stainless Queen of Night._  
_~The Fall of Troy, Quintus Smyrnaeus_

XXX

_October 1924_

When it came to weathering the discomforts of carrying a child, Marian Paroo Hill was most grateful that the height of her second pregnancy would not occur during the stifling heat of late summer. If she had calculated the conception correctly, she was not due until February. As it was mid-October, she was roughly halfway through her term, and her stomach had only recently grown round enough that her pregnancy was now common knowledge in River City. Overall, Marian preferred these middle months, as she was past the nausea and malaise of the early days, but not yet so rotund that she could find no tolerable position to recline in.

The librarian was currently resting quite comfortably on the bay window seat in the parlor, waiting for Harold to finish putting the girls to bed. Although the sun had set, the window was wide open so she could enjoy the crisp autumn breezes, as she often found herself overwarm when she was expecting. It was a beautiful Sunday evening: the moon was full, the sky was cloudless, and the stars flashed and twinkled like diamonds on black velvet.

Every now and then, the baby within Marian would wriggle, and she would smile and turn her gaze from the heavens to her stomach. This little one (although it was still too early for even Dr. Pyne to predict, her woman’s intuition told her that it was indeed only one) was not as active as the twins had been, so she cherished any and every movement he made.

As she laid a gentle hand on her stomach, Harold entered the parlor. No lamp was lit, as the moon provided more than enough light for the music professor to navigate the room as gracefully as he ever did in the daytime. As he made his way over to join her, she openly admired not only his aplomb but also his choice of outfit: an argyle sweater-vest with a red and yellow diamond pattern, worn over a crisp white dress shirt and accented with a black bowtie. A smart pair of flannel Oxford bags and two-toned black and white shoes completed the ensemble to perfection.

“Well, if this isn’t an evening made to order,” Harold purred into Marian’s ear as he slid onto the bench next to her. In response, she grinned archly at her husband, fisted her hands in his attractive sweater, and pulled him as close as possible for a heated kiss.

There was another thing she very much enjoyed about this part of pregnancy: the heightened pleasure that their lovemaking brought to her. Ecstasy made her feel weightless and free, and she unabashedly relished whenever Harold took her out of her increasingly ungainly body. Of course, he was always more than enthusiastic to oblige her amorous moods: wrapping his arms around her, he deepened their kiss even further.

“Oh, Marian,” he groaned when they finally parted to catch their breaths, “you _do_ know how to torture a fella.”

“And just what was so torturous about my kissing you on our bay window seat?” she asked, raising an eyebrow coquettishly at him.

He gave her a cheeky grin. “That I can’t make love to you right here and now.”

She burst into laughter. “I don’t think we could accomplish that feat in such a cramped space even if we didn’t have my stomach to contend with!”

He took her hands in his and pulled her to her feet. “Is that a challenge, Madam Librarian?”

“Perhaps,” she said, giving him the sly, sideways glance she knew always drove him wild.

Harold leaned in and gave her a love-bite that was hard enough to make her cry out. “We’re racking up quite the list of things we need to try once you recover from childbirth, you know.”

“Are we?” she asked dreamily as his mouth continued to meander avidly over her neck and down to her décolletage.

His patience for scintillating banter had clearly reached its end. Lifting his head from her breasts to look her in the eye, he said, “Bed. _Now_.”

Harold was not a man who outright commanded, but a man who wheedled and seduced. So she loved it when her dashing husband got so hot and bothered that he was reduced to uttering such bald-faced directives. It happened quite often, of late, and the fierce need in his tone never failed to make her want him even more – if that was even possible.

Yet for all his bluster, the music professor was not the one who led them – he knew the game as well as she did. Marian took his hand and pulled him up the stairs as quickly as she could manage without putting herself in danger of injury. And when they finally reached their bedroom and closed the door firmly behind them, she divested him of that smart outfit, laid him flat on his back, and promptly brought him to climax with her hands and mouth.

They had started playing this little game shortly after their post-Paris reconciliation. It was something they had tentatively begun exploring right before she discovered her first pregnancy and, upon this life-changing discovery, had lost the nerve to continue any further in this vein. Now, after nearly thirteen years of marriage and a second honeymoon that had given them the chance to rekindle those explorations, husband and wife had no compunction about pursuing this delightful path as far as it would lead them.

“Marian, you are a true goddess,” Harold gasped as she raised her head to triumphantly survey how boneless her decisive attentions had left him.

“Botticelli’s Venus?” she guessed impishly, remembering how he once told her what had come to mind when he first saw her nakedness on their wedding night.

Sitting up and catching her in his arms, he rolled her beneath him both tenderly and carefully, before planting a soft but searing kiss on her smiling lips. “Venus would be jealous of _you_,” he declared. “Especially in this moonlight.”

They had left some of the curtains wide open, the ones that were hanging over a window that didn’t face any nearby houses. It was absolutely delicious, to couple beneath the soft glow of the moon. “Someday, can we find a way make love outside beneath the stars?” she whispered.

“I’ll add that to the list,” he promised, before his mouth descended over hers.

Now it was Marian’s turn to writhe and moan in abject surrender beneath her husband’s expert caresses. He was a lot gentler with her than she was with him, but what he gave her was more than enough to make her come several times, and she cried out as loudly as she dared. When he finally finished pleasuring her to her satisfaction with his hands and mouth, he helped her to her elbows and knees, positioned himself behind her, and then slid right into her, thrusting as passionately as he dared.

It was not a position they often attempted, not because she felt any shame over such an animalistic configuration (since Paris, she could now admit that a great deal of its appeal was _because_ it was so deliciously wicked), but because she couldn’t see Harold at all. She could only feel and hear him, and while his hands grasping almost desperately at her hips and his sharp, throaty groans were exhilarating, she lamented not being able to see the lovely play of emotions across his handsome face. Especially in such stunning moonlight.

It never took Harold long to finish when they were entwined this way. So she soon got to see the ardor and affection in his eyes when he laid her back down, turned her toward him, and smoothed back all the stray curls that had fallen into her face from their spirited exertions.

A few tears escaped, but she often cried when they made love these days, just from the sheer intensity of it, so neither of them was alarmed. “I love you _so_ much, Harold.”

As he continued to gaze earnestly into her eyes, one of his hands caressed her damp cheek, while the other found its way down to her stomach. “You are everything to me, Marian. You and the wonderful children we’ve made together. I can’t wait to meet our new littlest one.”

This was the side of Harold that she loved best, the part of him that only she got to see: the solemnly sincere, fiercely loyal man who would stop at nothing to build a life with her and protect their family.

As he scooted down to coo at her rounded stomach, Marian reflected on how this pregnancy was both similar and different from her first one. While the condition wasn’t precisely enjoyable, with its varied, odd, and sometimes alarming maladies, it was somehow much easier this time around. Perhaps this was due to her previous experience and knowing what to expect, as well as the likelihood that she wasn’t carrying twins. It also helped a great deal that she was taking care not to overtax herself with work and social obligations, as she had made the mistake of doing during her first pregnancy.

It remained sweetly unspoken between the two of them, but Marian knew they were both hoping for a boy this time. While they had refrained from calling their little one _he_ or _she_ when she was pregnant with Penny and Elly, they sometimes referred to this baby as _he_ without thinking. Their daughters, of course, had been much more vocal about their wishes: Penny wanted a little sister and Elly wanted a little brother.

What Marian hadn’t anticipated, but certainly should have, is that her unexpected pregnancy had led to some nerve-wracking conversations with their daughters, as her steadily expanding waistline had piqued their curiosity about the facts of life. The girls were getting older and, as Mrs. Paroo had opined to the librarian on more than one occasion, it was about time they had such discussions with their daughters, anyway. While Harold easily fielded the girls’ questions with aplomb, providing honest but age-appropriate answers, it was left largely to Marian to handle the frank but delicate discussion that was required for them to learn about the mysteries of womanhood, and she struggled with what she should say and how much she should reveal at this point. She didn’t want to be quite as explicit as her mother was, but she didn’t want to say too little, either, as she well recognized the dangers of her daughters being too uninformed – after all, her dear friend Jane almost learned the facts of life through practical experience alone, as her complete ignorance of the subject had nearly led her down the perilous path to ruin with Professor Randall. The librarian did _not_ want her well-meaning and innocent daughters to fall into the same sort of trap!

So after much thought and careful phrasing, Marian sat the girls down and had this conversation with them. As uncomfortable as it was, she forced herself to speak honestly and straightforwardly, reminding herself that lack of information about physical relations did not preserve a girl’s modesty, especially from older and worldlier men seeking to take advantage of her naïveté. The librarian thought she had done an adequate job of explaining both the mechanics and the values she wished to impart to her daughters about lovemaking, as the endlessly inquisitive Penny looked neither horrified nor inappropriately curious, and asked no additional questions. However, Elly, whose expression was furtive and inscrutable, hung back after her older sister skipped off.

“Mother, is it really so awful as all _that_?” she asked in a hushed, crestfallen voice.

Marian winced, suddenly realizing her error. Whereas Penny was still uninterested in boys romantically and would likely remain indifferent for a few years yet, Elly was steadily developing feelings for Teddy Washburn. Reflecting that she should have spoken to the girls separately, as they had much different outlooks on the matter, Marian immediately assured her distressed daughter that with the right man, it was a wonderful and sacred expression of love, not an ordeal to be suffered, but a gift to be shared. The man who truly loved her would never be brutish or cruel, nor would he ask her to surrender her virtue before marrying her.

Because Elly was beginning to understand what it was like to experience such attraction, Marian divulged that she wasn’t worried so much about the cads her daughters might encounter, but the boys they developed real feelings for. During courtship, it was all too easy to give into temptation to go further than was wise for an unmarried couple. The librarian even admitted that she and Harold had to institute certain rules for their courting so they wouldn’t get carried away, which made her daughter relax enough to giggle. Heartened that Elly looked a bit more cheered, Marian hugged her and told her that she understood it was a lot to learn – and her grandmother was not half as gentle about explaining such matters when _she_ was a girl! At that, Elly let out a true laugh, as everyone knew Mrs. Paroo’s propensity not to mince words. Before sending her daughter off to join her sister, Marian further reassured her that this was not something she would have to think about for a long while yet, and when the day eventually came, she would be ready for it.

Harold came up to lie next to her again, breaking into her reminiscences with his own. “Darling – do you remember that first moonlit night we spent together in your girlhood bedroom, all those years ago?”

Marian smiled and nodded. They had made love in her old bedroom several times since then – every time they spent the night, in fact – but she would never forget that first long and lovely night. When morning eventually came, they were still so moonstruck that they had decided to try for another child…


	2. Moonstruck Memories

_Sometimes in the morning when shadows are deep_  
_I lie here beside you just watching you sleep_  
_And sometimes I whisper what I’m thinking of_  
_My cup runneth over with love_  
_~Mary Martin, I Do! I Do!_

_Sometimes in the evening when you do not see_  
_I study the small things you do constantly_  
_I memorize moments that I’m fondest of_  
_My cup runneth over with love_  
_~Robert Preston, I Do! I Do!_  


XXX

_March 1915, part one_

When Marian’s eyes fluttered open, she saw an uncommon sight: Harold Hill, fast asleep.

It wasn’t often that the librarian managed to catch her husband slumbering so soundly. When she did, she made sure to treasure it, steadily watching him until either she dozed off or he woke up. There was something so endearingly disarming about seeing the bombastic music professor in such an insensate state. When he was awake, his eyes flashed with emotion, charisma and, often, calculation. Asleep, he completely shed both his manic grandiosity and sense of pretense.

Shortly after they married, Marian had asked Harold about his curious sleeping habits. In one of his rare moments of tender solemnity, Harold confessed that in his former line of work, to sleep was to make oneself vulnerable to theft or worse, so he had spent the better part of his adult life training himself to function on as little of it as possible. He even admitted that the only time he ever stayed until morning with a lover was when they’d spent the entire night engaged in other activities – once she finally dozed off, he stole away. The only person whose presence he’d ever felt comfortable falling asleep in was Marcellus. That is, until he met her.

Marian cherished the fact that he was both willing and able to be so intimate with her. In the past two-and-a-half years, she had not only made great strides in coming to terms with Harold’s hedonistic past, but also in valuing just what his vast experience had brought to her. It wasn’t until after she had experienced physical love that she fully realized how horribly wrong it could have gone with a man who was overly prim or inconsiderate, which certainly explained why so many women had such a cynical view of marriage! And even a man who was kind and affectionate but just as inexperienced as she was may not have been able to help her overcome her Victorian prudishness to such a degree. Last night was yet another milestone for them – her old bedroom, the last existing vestige of her spinster maidenhood, had become yet another haven for clandestine romantic trysting.

As she reflected how much Harold had given to her, and how dearly she loved him, Marian couldn’t help herself – she leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his slightly parted mouth. When his lips remained slack, she giggled. He truly was asleep!

But not for long. When Marian gave him another sweet kiss, and then another, he stirred. Even fogged with slumber, it didn’t take him long to become an active participant in their embrace: as she nestled closer to him, his arms tightened around her waist, his lips moved warmly against hers, and his clever tongue sought entrance to her mouth.

“Well, if this isn’t the most wonderful way to wake up,” Harold said happily when their mouths finally parted. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked both disoriented and blissful. “What time is it?”

Marian squinted at the clock on the bedside table. When she caught sight of the hour, she gasped and sat straight up in bed. It was five past _eleven_. Even Mama wouldn’t make such scandalous allowances on a Tuesday morning. They had several social, civic, and familial duties to attend to. Even though she wasn’t working at the library today, Harold was due to go to the emporium this afternoon for band rehearsal. And here they were, behaving like a pair of carefree newlyweds on their honeymoon!

“We’ve slept far too late,” she said ruefully, as her husband gazed up at her with bewildered disappointment. “We must get up right away – we’ve imposed on Mama’s hospitality far too egregiously. Penny and Elly are probably wondering where we are, and you’ve got to get to the emporium in two-and-a-half hours.”

Harold sighed and got out of bed along with her, as even he couldn’t argue with that. Fortunately, they were both experts at making themselves presentable in short order, which they did without any further shenanigans. Being a man, the music professor was ready a few minutes before the librarian was, and he used the extra time to watch her affectionately and pensively in the mirror as she briskly wound her hair up in her usual workaday chignon. Just as Marian slid the last pin into place, he walked over to her and wrapped his arm lightly around her waist.

His eyes met hers in the mirror. “Marian… do you regret last night?”

She remembered that ardent, searching look of his, from the day the Wells Fargo Wagon had first brought the band instruments to River City. He looked at her as if his whole world was hinging on her answer. So even though they really couldn’t spare another moment, she turned toward him and gave him a soft, reassuring kiss. “I don’t regret _anything_ we did, Harold. It’s just” – she turned away to look in the mirror again – “Mama is going to be so smug about it!”

Harold kissed her temple, just as soft and reassuring. “Maybe, maybe not. We left the curtains wide open last night, but they’re closed this morning. Your mother not only didn’t even try to wake us up, she blocked out any light from intruding into the room. She might not exactly approve, but she certainly respects our privacy as a married couple!”

“Well, even Mama wouldn’t be so bold as to intrude _that_ way,” Marian pointed out, still apprehensive.

Harold kissed her again. “My dear little librarian, you have my solemn promise that if she _does_ tease or scold, I’ll divert and charm her into talking about something else.”

Marian was too relieved to mask how much this meant to her. “Really, Harold?”

He nodded and took her hands in his. “I know how important your dignity is to you, and as your husband, it’s my job to defend it.”

Marian kissed him so heartily that she almost had to redo her hair entirely.

XXX

When husband and wife decorously descended the stairs and entered the kitchen around eleven thirty, they were surprised to find themselves still alone. There were two plates with towels over them and a note from Mrs. Paroo. Apparently, she was out running errands with the girls and planned to be home by twelve thirty. She further informed them that Winthrop should arrive home from school at that time, and they could all eat a nice family lunch together before going about their business that afternoon.

So Harold and Marian shared an intimate breakfast together, like they were newlyweds on their honeymoon, after all. They ate in companionable silence, stealing heated little glances at each other exactly the way they had the morning after their wedding night. After they finished washing and drying their dishes, Harold gazed at the cuckoo clock on the wall.

“It’s only eleven forty-five, my dear little librarian,” he observed with a twinkle in his eye. “Shall we read in the parlor until your mother and brother return?”

Marian regarded her husband with an arch smile. She had been doing a lot of thinking during breakfast about precisely how she wanted to spend the precious hour they had been granted to be alone together.

“Maybe later,” she replied, going over to him until her mouth was practically brushing against his ear as she spoke. “I’d like to have dessert first.”

Harold pulled away to look at her, his expression entranced but uncertain. “Are you sure?” he asked in a low voice.

She nodded. “The tower room was all mine, once. But now it’s _ours_.”

Never a man to look a gift horse too closely in the mouth, he took her by the hand and whisked her back up to the bedroom. Once he closed the door, he paused to look at her again, this time sporting a wide grin. “As a matter of fact, darling, there _was_ one thing we didn’t have the opportunity to do last night that I’ve been thinking about all morning.”

Marian beamed at him. “I _knew_ you would have some ideas that were far more exciting than reading sedately in the parlor.”

Clearly eager not to waste another moment in implementing those ideas, not even to prolong their scintillating banter, he undressed her, laid her on the bed, and stood at the edge. “I want to _see_ you, Marian. And I want you to see me.”

As he undressed for her, she avidly enjoyed the show. Harold was just as captivating when he performed for her alone, and she made sure to demonstrate her appreciation vociferously. When he finally came over to her and grasped her hips, she wrapped her legs firmly around his waist, and he thrust into her with a groan. By now, she knew exactly how to move against him when he made love to her this way, both to maximize her own pleasure and to give him a good show in return. Since they were entirely alone in the house, she even took the daring liberty of moaning as loudly as she pleased.

It didn’t take long for him to finish. When Harold collapsed next to her, boneless and sated, she nestled into his embrace and they exchanged several long, languid kisses until the grandfather clock in the parlor chimed noon.

Rousing themselves from their dreamy stupor, husband and wife helped each other dress. Once they were impeccably groomed, they turned their attention to setting the room to rights. As Harold opened both the curtains and the windows to air out the space, Marian stripped all the linens from the mattress and placed them in the laundry basket her mother so helpfully left for them at the foot of the bed. They managed to complete everything with a good ten minutes to spare, so when the music professor came over to the librarian as she was doing some last-minute fiddling with her hair at the vanity, she did not rebuff his attentions. Along with the brisk chill of the early March breezes now circulating throughout the room, she could feel the heat of her husband’s hand on her waist through her skirts, and this made her shiver pleasantly and cozy up closer to him.

“I want to know every thought you had about me in this room during our courtship and engagement,” Harold whispered in her ear. “I know you were just a maid, but even maids get ideas, my dear little librarian. And you did have access to classics like _Fanny Hill_ and _The Perfumed Garden_, after all.”

Marian’s heart beat faster, but in excitement rather than alarm. “Only if you tell me what _you_ were thinking, in return. Every thought you ever had about making love to me in here, I want to know, no matter how scandalous or wicked.”

“That’s certainly more than fair,” he agreed, the caress of his warm breath making the side of her neck tingle. “Speaking of thinking – I’ll be thinking about what we did just now all afternoon. And I want to do it all over again with you tonight when I get home.”

Marian let out a low, throaty laugh and leaned back against Harold. True to form, he was already hard. “I’ll be waiting,” she promised.

XXX

When Mrs. Paroo and Winthrop arrived home with the girls in tow, Harold and Marian were reading sedately in the parlor. She was leafing through _Pride and Prejudice_ on the sofa, and he was on a wingback chair perusing the newspaper.

“Profethor! Thithter!” Winthrop cried happily as he thundered into the room. As Mrs. Paroo placed the squirming girls in their mother’s lap, he regarded the librarian and music professor with the most charming, boyish frown. “You didn’t wake up in time to have breakfast with me before I had to go to school. And Mama wouldn’t let me come get you!”

As Marian smiled apologetically and tried her best not to blush openly – it was easy to hide her crimsoning cheeks by looking down at Penny and Elly as they burbled and cooed and pawed at her – Harold laughed and smoothly replied, “Being the parents of a precocious set of twins wears a body out! But as you can see, we’re wide awake and ready to have lunch with you.”

Mrs. Paroo likewise laughed. “Winthrop, why don’t you go wash up and then set the table?” she said nonchalantly as she headed toward the kitchen. “That way, we can get right down to the meal!”

As Winthrop enthusiastically rushed to obey their mother, Marian couldn’t help being surprised by her stunning lack of smugness. After all the fuss she’d given her daughter about how much happier she’d be if she found a good man, she ought to be gloating at being proven so right. Instead, she seemed almost as eager as Harold to preserve the librarian’s sense of dignity. Of course, her eyes _were_ twinkling rather knowingly, but her smile was both fond and indulgent. She was clearly overjoyed to see how well-loved her daughter was, and she wasn’t about to jeopardize such happiness with any ill-bred jocularity. Marian realized with relief that sometimes Mama was a lot cannier than she gave her credit for.

Still, like any gallant white knight, Harold clearly took it as his sworn duty to be as charming as he could be to his in-laws, as tender as he could be to his daughters, and as solicitous as he could be of his wife’s comfort. He was so wonderfully well-behaved that Marian felt her heart turn over every time she looked at him. When their eyes met – and this was quite often – he held her gaze ardently but briefly, turning away just before she could remember to blush. She could hardly wait until tonight, she wanted him so badly. But they still had several hours to go before they could be alone again. Not only were they saddled with a baby carriage and suitcases on the walk home, Winthrop came along to help them carry everything.

As their little caravan made its way to East Pine, Marian couldn’t help wishing that she and Harold were unencumbered enough to walk arm in arm. If they were able to do this, she had no doubt that the fingers of his free hand would rise to cover hers and brush the inside of her wrist. But he was carrying a bulky suitcase and she was ferrying their daughters, so they had no opportunity to indulge in such sweet, idle luxuries. And as if to remind them that the time for romance had passed, the weather today was overcast and drizzly. The dull, clammy grayness was a depressing contrast to the stark, pristine beauty of the previous moonlit evening. But even so, Marian gazed dreamily at the gloomy horizon, recalling that evening with barely concealed delight. Last night – and again this morning – was the first time in ages that they’d been so spontaneous. Perhaps she would have an extra little surprise for her husband this Christmas…

Once they finally reached the charming Victorian, Harold sent Winthrop inside with instructions to bring all their luggage upstairs to the master bedroom. As soon as Marian rolled the baby carriage into the front hall, he tugged her back outside to stand on the front porch with him. He truly was a master of stealing secret moments together – once they were alone, he embraced her and kissed her far more passionately than he usually did when they were in public.

“I would have done this inside, but if I did, I wouldn’t be able to leave the house for a very long time afterward,” he explained when they parted, before she could tease him for impropriety. Fortunately, as the weather was so chancy, there was presently no passerby to witness their lapse.

“You mustn’t be late,” she agreed, but breathlessly. He was standing face to face with her, as if they were the only two people in the world.

“How is this possible?” he asked with a dazed chuckle as they continued to stare into each other’s eyes. “I’ve made love to you countless times, we have two beautiful children to show for it, and I still want you as badly as I did that summer night we stood just like this on your mother’s porch.”

She laughed, just as undone. “I don’t know. But I feel exactly the same way. And I hope that being in love never stops being this wonderful.”

“So do I,” he said earnestly. He closed the infinitesimal gap between them and kissed her again.

All too soon, Winthrop came thundering down the stairs, so husband and wife had to part. As Marian bustled into the front hall to attend to Penny and Elly, who were beginning to fuss, she heard Harold say to her brother, “Why don’t you start heading over to the emporium, son? I’ll be along in a minute.”

Once Winthrop was presumably out of earshot, the music professor’s arm was around her waist again. “Just one more thing before I go, Marian. There’s something I always wanted to do during our courtship, but never got the chance.” When she looked questioningly at him, his free hand found one of hers, and he slipped her glove off of it.

As Marian smiled and nodded her assent, he tucked it into his pocket. It was tremendously flattering that the man who knew every inch of her so intimately still cared enough to make such sentimental, courtly gestures. “Just don’t lose it,” she warned. “Those are my warmest gloves!”

Harold looked mock-affronted. “I would _never_, Madam Librarian,” he assured her. Stroking her bare palm with his thumb, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “This should keep you warm until I return your favor this evening.”

“One paltry kiss will not nearly be enough to keep my hand warm for so long,” she protested just as playfully.

He gave her a smoldering look. “I’ll more than make it up to you tonight,” he promised, and then bounded off with the debonair spring in his step that never failed to captivate her.


	3. Come Crashing Down to Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: the last third of this chapter discusses early miscarriage.

_Take a moment and ask yourself if this is how we fall apart?_  
_But it’s not, it’s okay, you’ve got nothing to fear._  
_I’m here, and it was just a thought._  
_It’s okay, we can watch them go by._  
_~Here Comes a Thought, Steven Universe_

_Why don’t you talk to each other?_  
_Just give it a try._  
_Why don’t you talk about what happened?_  
_I know you’re trying to avoid it but I don’t know why._  
_~Both of You, Steven Universe_

XXX

_March 1915, part two_

Marian couldn’t moon over Harold’s departure for long, as Penny and Elly started crying in earnest, and she had to turn her full attention to the demands of motherhood. She also had several chores to complete in the few short hours before it was time to cook dinner, including unpacking, catching up with the mail, and undertaking a thorough dusting of the music room. But first, she had to get the ice that had been delivered this morning right into the icebox, before it thoroughly melted. The early spring air had kept it decently cool, but if it was left out too much longer, they wouldn’t receive much of its benefit.

Throughout the hustle and bustle of the rest of the afternoon and early evening, Marian didn’t have the time or even the energy to ruminate over her heated flirtation with Harold. The girls, who were suffering the effects of being off their normal routine, downright refused to nap, which only increased their crankiness. So the librarian simply plopped them in their crib in the parlor and let them scream in supercilious fury as she dusted the music room. After a good fifteen minutes of caterwauling, they finally quieted. At first, Marian took this reprieve as a gift and relished the silence as she continued her cleaning. But as time continued to pass interrupted, she realized it was a bit _too_ silent.

And then the giggling started.

Marian rushed into the parlor. The smell hit her just before the spectacle – not only had Penny managed to pull off her diaper entirely, she and Elly had painted quite the mural onto both themselves and the crib with its contents.

“You little rascals!” she exclaimed, not sure whether to be annoyed at their audacity or impressed by their ingenuity. Penny and Elly laughed even more raucously, clearly pleased by her response to their handiwork.

Letting out a long sigh, the librarian scooped the twins out of their befouled crib and hustled them upstairs for a bath. It was a darn good thing she was wearing her shabbiest of dresses right now!

XXX

By the time Marian managed to get the girls, the parlor, the music room, and then herself fully cleaned, there was no time to prepare the sumptuous romantic dinner she was planning to surprise Harold with. The librarian had been taught by her mother to keep a kitchen that could adapt to the time-consuming domestic catastrophes boisterous children tended to bring on, so there were plenty of fixings for a cold picnic basket, which would have to do. Fortunately, the music professor was never picky about his victuals – as long as the food was edible and gave him the energy to sate his other appetites, he was satisfied.

Once Marian threw together a passable feast, completed her usual evening inspection for dirt or disarray around the house, and finally got the girls to go to sleep, she was left with only five minutes to spare before Harold was due to return home. If she hurried, she would be able to let down her hair and change into something a little more alluring than a faded house dress.

Sadly, this was not to be. Harold not only came home early, the librarian was in such a frazzled state that his entrance into their bedroom thoroughly startled her. Fortunately, she was seated at her vanity, so she didn’t completely topple over when she jumped. But even after she recovered her composure, she was hardly the picture of alluring poise that she’d been hoping to present: she had removed her boots, skirts, blouse, and corset and donned a lacy camisole, but she was still in her workaday drawers, scrambling to simultaneously roll down her stockings and unpin her hair.

Thankfully, Harold didn’t seem bothered by her disorder. If anything, he looked even more entranced by the sight of it. As soon as he removed his suitcoat and bowtie and stowed them neatly in his armoire, he came right over and knelt beside her. Marian was still busy, brushing her now-loose curls with one hand and tugging at a bothersome garter with the other.

“Allow me,” he said gallantly, his nimble fingers dancing up her calf and covering her busy ones.

“The twins made quite the disgusting mess for me to clean up this afternoon, which delayed me considerably,” she explained ruefully, even as she laid down her brush and allowed herself to relax into his ministrations. “I’d hoped to be a lot more presentable by now!”

Harold merely chuckled as he unclasped her garters and rolled down her stockings. Once she was free of such encumbrances, he grasped her hips and swiveled her on the vanity stool until she was facing him. “You look delicious when you’re disheveled like this, my dear little librarian,” he declared as he parted the split seam of her drawers with eager hands. “ Just as delicious as I’ve been imagining all afternoon…”

He buried his head in her lap, his warm lips caressing the inside of her thighs. It wasn’t long before he had kissed his way into far more intimate places. Gladly ceding the reins to her husband as her sense of annoyance at that afternoon’s petty tribulations faded away, Marian tilted her head back to let out long, low moans.

Once Harold brought her to ecstasy, he tugged her to her feet and buried his head in her breasts, kissing his way gradually downward to her stomach and abdomen. His wandering hands found the strings of her drawers and, after untying them, he tugged them downward. Once Marian was clad in nothing but her camisole, he started removing his own clothing, not with the measured and debonair grace he demonstrated earlier that afternoon, but with the avid rapacity of a man who was at the end of his patience for such frivolous niceties. She eagerly helped him in this endeavor, and it wasn’t long before he was nearly as naked as she was. They immediately tumbled to the bed together, not even bothering to properly align themselves with the headboard before beginning to make love.

“I meant to take things a lot slower tonight,” Harold panted, even as he thrust into her and she writhed supine beneath him, “but I want you too much…”

This kind of whirlwind ravishment was exactly what Marian wanted right now, so she just tightened her arms around him and moaned her approval.

Inevitably, their tryst was over quickly. As husband and wife lay in a perspiring tangle of limbs, the cries of one infant, and then another, pierced their romantic haze.

Harold let out a wheezing laugh and flopped over onto his back. “At least the girls didn’t interrupt us at a much more crucial point in the proceedings!”

All Marian could do was sigh at this turn of events. After all the running around she’d done that afternoon, followed by such frantic coupling, movement was utterly beyond her at the moment.

Her husband sweetly kissed her temple. “I’ll see to our daughters’ comfort, darling.”

“It might take awhile,” she warned, though it was far more of a token protest than an actual refusal. “They’ve been like this all afternoon!”

“I’ll manage,” he said magnanimously. Throwing on a robe, he hastened to the nursery.

After allowing herself a blissful three minutes of peace, Marian forced herself to sit up and take stock of her surroundings. Her camisole was dreadfully wrinkled, the sheets were in such thorough disarray she’d have to remake the bed, and Harold’s clothes were scattered everywhere. Laughing and shaking her head, the librarian dragged herself out of bed and started setting things to rights. As she neatened both herself and the bedroom, she reflected that once again, they had taken no precautions. And Harold was in such an amorous mood that she was looking forward to spontaneous and frequent trysting throughout the night and possibly even the next several days. And this would surely lead to even more crying babies to look after!

But to her amazement, Marian found herself _liking_ this idea. It made her stomach pleasantly flip-flop to imagine being with child again, to envision Harold talking sweetly to her stomach, to have another beautiful little baby twining her neck. Penny and Elly were growing more and more every day, and already the librarian’s heart ached at the inexorably swift rate her babies were maturing. They were independent little spirits and always squirmed in her arms. Not even Harold could cuddle them for long, before they were clamoring to be set loose to explore. Perhaps it was foolish of her, but she felt the stirrings and yearnings for another infant.

And her appetite for Harold’s touch was merely whetted by their heated encounter. After completing her usual nighttime ablutions, she decided to forgo nightdresses entirely, and slipped beneath the sheets entirely unclothed. While she never wore drawers to bed, it wasn’t often she surprised her husband like this, and she smiled impishly as she waited for him to return. She had extinguished all of the lights except for a small lamp on her vanity, both for Harold to find his way back to bed without stumbling and to provide a soft, romantic glow. It was a shame it was still so cloudy outside – there would be no moon to light their way tonight.

But as Marian’s thoughts wandered, her mischievous mood gradually evaporated. Was it really a good idea for her to encourage the continuation of their moonstruck madness? Despite Harold’s sweet assurances last night that he would not regret another child, she knew it wasn’t the same as him expressing a desire to try actively for one. Perhaps she ought to get dressed, after all…

As Marian pondered her dilemma, she must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, the room had been plunged into darkness and Harold was slipping into bed next to her. At first, she was surprised he turned the light off, as he generally liked to see her, and she could now admit that she liked to see him. But when she felt his body against hers and realized that he was also naked, her consternation melted into delight.

“How did you know?” she whispered.

“I didn’t,” he whispered back. “I was planning to come to bed this way, regardless, because we have unfinished business.” Even in the dark, she could tell he was grinning, simply by the tone of his voice as he stroked her bare hip and remarked, “It appears we’re running the exact same scheme tonight, Madam Librarian. And that makes it all the sweeter.”

Marian moved in and captured his grinning mouth in a kiss, a course of action for which he demonstrated hearty approval by kissing her passionately in return. It was lovely to feel his warm skin against hers as they began to writhe together beneath the covers, and she anticipated a long and lovely night ahead.

“But suppose I do fall pregnant?” she wondered aloud as Harold’s eager mouth parted from hers and began to meander along the curve of her neck. “It seems a bit early to try for more than two children – Penny and Elly aren’t even out of diapers yet. We must be” – she was interrupted by a moan that involuntarily escaped her when her husband’s lips located a particularly sensitive spot on her neck – “_rational_ about this.”

The music professor chuckled. “My dear little librarian, if everyone was rational about their lovemaking, there’d be a whole lot less children in the world.” He shook his head, the brush of his curls against her throat making her shiver. “The human race would have died out long ago… ” He trailed off in another series of love-bites.

Marian couldn’t help laughing. “For a man who was such an adamant bachelor for the majority of his life, you’re extraordinarily eager to do your part in contributing to the next generation!”

Harold lifted his head, and by now her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see him regarding her with the fond, serious expression that always made her heart beat faster. “The world could use more children who have you as a mother,” he said softly. And then his mouth found hers again.

He must have brushed his teeth right before he came to bed – Marian tasted the cool, peppermint zing of Pepsodent on his breath, which she found even more alluring than Sen-Sen. She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in this embrace, but she could not, in good conscience, leave such grave matters undiscussed. So she broke their kiss and said in a gentle but no-nonsense tone, “Harold, how long are you planning to forgo taking precautions?”

“Well,” he said persuasively, “I figured that since you’re due for your courses any day now, we could have at least a few days of spontaneity before we need to go back to being responsible.”

“It’s not foolproof,” she reminded him, but with a smile, as she found herself _wanting_ to be convinced, despite her lingering misgivings. “Do you want more than two children?”

“If that’s the price of admission, I’ll gladly pay it,” he said earnestly, cupping her cheek. “I love our daughters, and if they hadn’t both arrived at once, we’d be trying for that second child right about now, anyway.”

“We would,” she acknowledged. “And I suppose after last night, this morning, and again this evening, we’ve let that particular horse out of the barn!”

“We’ve let out a whole herd of them,” Harold chuckled. But then he quieted and looked appraisingly at her. “Does that bother you, Marian?”

“Not at all,” she averred. “I’ll happily welcome whatever the future has in store for us.”

When his mouth covered hers and he rolled her beneath him, she welcomed him as freely and wholeheartedly as she had on their wedding night.

XXX

At three o’clock in the morning, Marian was awakened by the usual abdominal cramps that the onset of her courses brought. Fortunately, she had only just begun them, so the mattress was not soiled along with the sheets. As she was now alone in their bedroom, it was easy enough to refresh the linens after she had attended to her toilette. Once she managed to remake the bed, she was too fatigued and out of sorts to do anything but lie down with her knees drawn up to her chin. Thankfully, the aspirin she had swallowed took effect merely a half hour later, and her pain subsided so much that she decided to join Harold in his insomniac pursuits. Most likely, he was in the music room.

However, as the librarian exited their bedroom, she saw her husband coming back upstairs. Her expression must have looked especially melancholy, as he tenderly asked, “What’s the matter, darling?”

“I’m _not_ pregnant,” she informed him.

Casting a glance at the nursery, which thankfully remained quiet, Harold whisked her into their bedroom, closed the door, and enfolded her in a hug. “Do you _want_ to be, Marian?”

“I don’t quite know,” she said honestly. “Do _you_ want me to be?”

“I don’t quite know, either,” he admitted. “It is an attractive idea, I must admit.”

“Well, we don’t have to try _too_ hard, exactly,” she said tentatively, after a long moment of silence that was companionable but charged. “We could just continue not taking precautions and… see what happens.”

“Yes, we could certainly do that,” he agreed just as tentatively. “You know… Fred and Lucy have invited me to Des Moines for a visit this spring, and I also have a hot tip regarding some new instruments for the boys’ band. I was planning to leave the girls with your mother and take you along with me as soon as the weather warms up in earnest. So that would be in May, most likely. Maybe this trip could be a honeymoon of sorts?”

Marian smiled into the crook of his neck. “I’d like that.”

“So… when do you want to stop taking precautions?” he asked after another silence that was no longer tense so much as it was electric.

She raised her head to look into his eyes. “Immediately,” she said, surprising herself with her own vehemence.

Though they weren’t averse to fooling around during her monthly courses, they had never made love in earnest, as she was often too uncomfortable to attempt such a feat. But when Harold’s mouth found hers and he kissed her just as fiercely, she found herself needing him so desperately that they achieved yet another milestone.

XXX

Although the music professor and librarian had gotten off to a very promising start in their endeavors to bring a third child into the world, their many civic, social, and domestic duties continued to encroach on their time together. Marian got her courses again in April, and then again in May. In April, she was annoyed but not daunted by this discovery. In May, she was so frustrated by their lack of progress that she burst into tears.

“We’ll try a lot harder this month,” Harold promised. “We’ll be going to Des Moines alone together in merely one week, and I purposely planned our trip during a certain timeframe where it’s absolutely crucial for us not to have any of the, er, _usual_ interruptions.”

“Living in River City is certainly an effective precaution all on its own,” Marian said wryly, recalling the many occasions their darling daughters, committee meetings, library duties, band rehearsals, and unexpected visitors had delayed or outright forestalled their attempts at romantic rendezvous over the past two months.

XXX

When Marian didn’t get her courses in June, she was thrilled – and terrified. A trip out of town together had indeed been just what they needed, but were they _really_ ready for a third child? Despite how boldly they had charged full steam ahead in abandoning precautions, she still wasn’t quite sure they had made the wisest of decisions. Especially when she saw Harold regarding her with the same disquieting mix of elation and terror that was roiling her insides. Though she knew that he was paying just as close attention to her courses (or lack thereof) as she was, they dared not broach the subject just yet, preferring to live in blithe denial until some of the more unmistakable symptoms of pregnancy manifested.

But the possibility that she was with child lingered between them like a sweet secret, suffusing and softening their lovemaking into something far more tender and careful than the reckless abandon with which they’d coupled in Des Moines. When Harold bought her the faraway field for her birthday and they spent the entire day together, she wondered if he had also planned that particular rendezvous during a “certain timeframe,” as it took place shortly after her courses would have finished for June. If she hadn’t conceived in Des Moines, he’d certainly increased her odds at the faraway field! But she didn’t ask.

XXX

Merely a few days after the Independence Day boys’ band concert and parade, Marian began to bleed. At first, she tried to dismiss her dismay that something wasn’t quite right with this round of courses, as Harold once again promised her that they’d redouble their efforts as soon as she recovered from this setback. However, when her courses not only didn’t look quite _right_, but also caused severe cramping to the point that she actually fainted when she was at her mother’s house for lunch one afternoon, she knew something was truly awry. After her mother managed to revive her, she had insisted on helping Marian to the bed in the tower room – the blessed, accursed bed that had started all this trouble – and sending for Dr. Pyne. And for once, the librarian was too exhausted and distressed to argue.

After a brief examination that involved a physical abdominal inspection and some very personal questions, Dr. Pyne confirmed that it was most likely what Marian had suspected almost from the start: an early miscarriage. After giving her several instructions, along with his condolences, he tendered her to the capable care of her mother and departed.

Somehow, the librarian managed to keep her composure until Dr. Pyne left – and then crumbled right into her mother’s comforting arms. As Mrs. Paroo had endured many such losses in between the two children she’d successfully managed to carry to term, she certainly understood the librarian’s privation. For once, she knew just what to say – and, more importantly, what _not_ to say.

But even as Marian allowed herself to weep openly in her mother’s sympathetic presence, she couldn’t completely unburden herself. Because beneath her sorrow and rage, as pronounced as it was, there was another nebulous but disquieting feeling that she dared not examine too closely, or even name in the privacy of her own mind. It wasn’t appropriate or decent for a woman to feel like _that_, and she was certain that even Mama wasn’t so broadminded that she could countenance such shocking sentiments without censure. So the librarian pushed it away and concentrated solely on the feelings that _did_ make sense. As much they stung and burned and rent her heart, this pain was far easier to bear than the guilt that she was somehow defective as a woman.

XXX

Marian couldn’t even confess the full extent of her malaise to Harold. She told him about the miscarriage right away, of course. Mama sent for him as the librarian continued to rest in the tower room, and he rushed right over from the emporium to be with her. And true to form, he was _perfect_. Despite his own grief over their loss, he held her, comforted her, and cared for her so well that both her mother and Dr. Pyne commended him for his diligence. Indeed, in the following days and weeks as her body gradually recovered, the music professor was nothing but kind, sympathetic, and respectful, maintaining a gentlemanly distance and following the librarian’s lead. When she wanted him to hold her, he tenderly obliged. When she wanted to be left alone, he withdrew without so much as a frown.

His perfection was soothing at first, and just what she needed. But perversely, it soon started to annoy her. When July turned to August and Dr. Pyne pronounced her physically recovered, Harold still carefully kept his distance, even after their daughters had gone to bed and they were sitting alone together in the parlor. After enduring one solid week of this behavior, she exploded at him.

“You mustn’t be afraid to touch me – I can’t bear it any longer!”

Harold looked pained but not surprised, as if he’d been waiting for just this kind of outburst. “What can I do for you, darling?” he asked carefully, as if he hardly dared breathe the wrong way, let alone make her blush with a scandalous flirtation.

His diffident demeanor only incensed her further. “This is not the man who chased after me in the library, or seduced me in my girlhood bedroom, or even pulled me to march next to him in the parade! I don’t even know who you are, anymore. Stop being such an insufferable gentleman and do what _you_ want, for once! I know we can’t quite make love again yet, but you could tease me, or flirt with me, or _something_.”

“Is that really what you want from me right now, Marian?” he asked, fixing her with a gaze that was shrewd but uncalculating. While it wasn’t quite what she was after, it was enough of the bombastic music professor to blunt the worst of her rage.

Her shoulders sagged. “I just want things between us to feel _normal_ again,” she said miserably.

“Things will get back to normal eventually,” he assured her, though he made no move to come closer. “But we can’t force it. For what it’s worth, I never stopped wanting you. But I also never want to go through _this_ again. And I can’t, in good conscience, start flirting with you that way until we’ve decided where we want to go from here. I was thinking that we should start taking precautions again, at least until the fall…”

Marian burst into a fresh wave of tears.

Harold sighed and closed his eyes, his expression full of as much guilt and self-recrimination as it had been the night he admitted to Winthrop he was a conman. “Is there anything I can say or do that won’t cause you more pain?”

“I’m sorry,” she gulped, wiping her eyes. “You’re absolutely right that we need to do that. It’s just that… Dr. Pyne said I may find myself emotional at times, even though I’ve physically recovered.”

“You needn’t apologize,” he said quickly. “You lost a child – _we_ lost a child. I watched my mother go through this so many times…”

“How did your father handle it?” Marian asked curiously as he trailed off, seizing the opportunity to focus on something besides her own pain and guilt.

Harold’s expression darkened. “My good-for-nothing father never knew about any of those babies. He was always gone during her pregnancies. And she probably never told him about them, either. She wasn’t the type of woman to talk about her troubles – she was raised to think she was a burden to everyone, and so endeavored not to be. She never had anyone in her life that was unselfish enough to look too deeply behind the serene and accommodating mask she always wore. I tried to help her as much as a son feasibly can with such delicate issues, which is to say, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to make up for my father’s absence.”

“You shouldn’t have had to do _any_ of that,” she said, horrified. “Mama went through several miscarriages, but I didn’t realize the full measure of her pain until I was grown up. Papa was the one who comforted and supported her through her most trying times, as a husband should.”

“As a husband should,” Harold echoed. He looked appraisingly at her. “Marian, what else is bothering you? I know it isn’t just the loss of our baby. Something else is eating you up inside. Please, tell me what it is.”

Her throat closed. “I don’t know if I can,” she managed to choke out after swallowing. “You’ll think I’m horrible.”

He guffawed in disbelief. “Marian, whatever it is you’ve been thinking, it can’t be worse than anything I’ve actually _done_ in my life.”

Harold always did have the most marvelous way of putting her moral quandaries into proper perspective. Taking a long, deep breath to steady herself, she finally told him what had been nagging at her all this time.

“I am sad and angry that we lost our child. We tried so hard, and I _wanted_ this baby. But I’m not… devastated. That is, I’m not overwhelmed with the bottomless despair I would have expected to feel. Something just didn’t feel right or even real about this pregnancy, the way it did when I was carrying Penny and Elly. So when I found out I was having a miscarriage, there was a small part of me, a very infinitesimally small part, that felt… not relieved, never that, but _released_.”

She paused to gauge Harold’s reaction, to brace herself for the disgust and the dismay that would surely bloom in his eyes as he realized the full import of her words. But as one long, excruciating moment after another passed, he continued to look at her with nothing but the sincerest sympathy and affection.

So she continued, deciding she may as well get it all out while she felt brave enough to do so. “I think I finally know why I felt that way. I _do_ want another child, but I’m not ready for one yet.” Tears welled up in her eyes as the feelings of guilt and shame came roaring back. “I thought perhaps Providence disapproved of my reticence after having been so imprudent, and so took our child in recompense for my lack of character…”

Harold caught her in a fierce hug. After weeks of being treated with kid gloves, she relished the roughness of his embrace. “It does _not_ work that way, Marian,” he said firmly. “If the Almighty was that merciless and unforgiving, I would have been struck down for my sins ten times over a long time ago. It was just a sad fact of nature that this baby couldn’t grow. It happens from time to time, and it’s no one’s fault when it does. And you’re not nearly the first female I’ve ever come across who didn’t have mixed feelings about motherhood.”

“But a female like _me_ shouldn’t,” she cried bitterly. “I can certainly understand why a city girl or an actress or a harlot would eschew children. I can even understand why Lucy Gallup does, as she and Fred live a very unconventional and nomadic life for a married couple. But I’m a respectable small-town wife who should be nothing but thrilled to fulfill her ‘womanly duty’!”

“I didn’t only meet worldly gals in my travels, darling,” he gently reminded her. “I went through so many little towns, villages, and hamlets chock-full of just such respectable women who were barely managing the large broods they amassed. They all cursed their husbands for saddling them with more mouths than they could comfortably afford to feed, some openly, some less so. But not a single one of them was happy with their lot. And I don’t ever want that to be _you_.” His arms tightened around her. “Oh, Marian… I wasn’t ever going to tell you this because I wasn’t sure how you’d take it, but I can understand your dilemma better than you realize. Because while I was also very disappointed to lose this child, I wasn’t sure I was ready for it, either.”

Marian half laughed, half sobbed in sheer relief as she clung to her husband. She still wasn’t entirely certain that she wasn’t a horrible specimen of humanity for feeling the way she did, but at least they could be horrible together.

When Harold unwound her chignon and buried his face in her curls, she didn’t care how many pins fell to the floor, for once. There were far more important matters to discuss: “Since Mama had so many miscarriages in between me and Winthrop, Dr. Pyne warned me that I might repeat the pattern. So I’m not sure it’s worth the risk to try again.” She paused. “Do _you_ want another child, Harold?”

“Not nearly enough to risk losing you,” he said staunchly. “If we tried again and you died along with the baby, I would never forgive myself.”

“I’m strong and healthy, and so was Mama,” she assured him. “There’s little risk of that happening.”

He moved out of their embrace and regarded her with a pensive expression. “Even so, I’ve been doing some thinking these past few weeks, during your convalescence. We have our hands full enough with the babies we’ve already got. If we have any more children while our daughters are still in diapers, you would most likely have to leave your library position entirely. Would you be able to give up your work, at least for the foreseeable future?”

Marian shook her head so vehemently that any pins still clinging to her hair scattered. “No, I certainly wouldn’t! Besides, we really need the extra income right now. Winthrop still isn’t old enough to help support our mother yet.” She looked hopefully at him. “It would be most ideal if we could try again in five or six years. Winthrop will be grown and the girls will be old enough to help with a baby…”

Now it was Harold’s turn to shake his head. “By then, I’ll be almost fifty. I can’t say I fancy the idea of bringing another child into the world so late in life. If there’s one thing I promised myself, it’s that I would never leave you a widow with a large brood to care for.”

She nodded glumly – she had expected he would say something like that. “I suppose you’re right. And I suppose we should have had this conversation in March, _before_ we started trying. We would have saved ourselves so much trouble and heartache that way.”

Harold smiled sadly and spread his hands. “Moonstruck madness can get the better of anyone, my dear little librarian.” He took her in his arms again. “If I could just spend the rest of my life loving you and watching our daughters grow into full and active lives of their own, I couldn’t ask for any more than that.”

Marian laid her head on his shoulder. “Neither could I,” she agreed, finally letting go of that dear, sweet, foolish dream of a third child for good.

“I love you, Marian,” he said earnestly. “And I _do_ want to make love to you, as often as I can.”

She smiled wistfully. “Dr. Pyne recommends that we abstain completely until after my next monthly course, just to make sure everything is back to normal. If our precautions fail and I _do_ conceive again so soon, it could be injurious to my health.”

“Then I will court you until then,” he said gallantly. Taking her hand in his, he kissed the top of it, and then turned it over to brush her palm with his lips. His caress made her tingle just as much as it had the first time he’d done it, that warm summer afternoon he attempted to seduce her in front of the library. Only now, she could show how much his touch affected her, and she did this by shivering and looking at him with unabashed longing.

Harold grinned as he continued to lightly stroke her palm with his thumb. “You see, my dear little librarian?” he declared, his dulcet purr filled with far more affection than triumph. “Just because we need to take precautions, doesn’t mean we can’t make them _exciting_.”

“I’ll give you my glove again, to carry as a favor,” Marian offered, getting into the spirit of the game as he tugged her back into his arms. “I don’t need it during the summer, anyway…”


	4. Waxing Crescent Moons

_What can I do for you?_  
_What can I do that no one else can do?_  
_~Greg Universe and Rose Quartz, Steven Universe_

XXX

_October 1924_

By the end of her reminiscences, Marian was no longer smiling. Once the conversation about a third child came to a close that warm summer evening, she and Harold had never discussed it again, not saying so much as a single word to each other or anyone else. Determined to concentrate on being grateful for what they already had, they had buried this loss deep down.

With their busy lives, it was surprisingly easy to move on. When America entered the Great War merely two years later, which brought with it the rise of the fearsome and deadly Spanish flu, the Hills thought of little else but surviving these catastrophes intact. By the time the fighting finally ended and the epidemic receded, that particular loss was a distant memory. They had suffered far keener casualties in the interim and were staunchly focused on rebuilding the world from the ashes left of the old one. It was a new era and the twenties looked very promising, so the music professor and librarian reveled in the hope of a prosperous future.

After years of being dutifully scrupulous about employing prophylactics, husband and wife had also been lulled into a false sense of security. They had occasionally chosen not to take precautions when they were tolerably certain she wouldn’t conceive, and their suppositions had always been proven right. When Paris finally afforded them both the time and the privacy to make love as often as they pleased, it was no wonder they had taken the opportunity to enjoy themselves to the fullest. And in truth, Marian had still wanted another child, even if she could no longer admit it to herself. Harold had firmly nixed that idea, and she was afraid he might think she purposely tricked him into it, even though he’d behaved just as enthusiastically and irresponsibly carefree as she had on their second honeymoon.

But as thrilled as she was about their impending new arrival, Marian knew this would truly be their last child. Mama had gone through the change only a year after Winthrop’s birth, and soon it would be the librarian’s turn. In the grand scheme of sharing a life together, there were just a few short years remaining before they would no longer have to concern themselves with taking precautions, a turn of events she anticipated with more relief than sadness. In the meantime, Marian had no doubt that Harold would come up with an ingenious way to make taking precautions as erotic as any embrace they enjoyed in Paris. He certainly hadn’t disappointed her with his inventiveness while courting her until she’d fully recovered from her miscarriage.

But still, she had to ask. “Harold, given what we agreed after the loss of our baby… was there a small part of you that was upset with me after you learned I was pregnant with this child?”

XXX

Harold, whose own expression had grown solemn as he recalled that heady but heartbreaking spring and summer, didn’t answer immediately. Not because he dreaded her question, but because he was trying not to lose his composure. Although he did his best to avoid thinking about it, he would never forget lying next to Marian in that bed in the tower room on that horrible afternoon, holding her and trying his damnedest not to let his own tears escape as she lost their baby, because he needed to be strong for her. And not only that, he harbored his own painful memories that he couldn’t quite share with her, an uncomfortable but well-deserved guilt about how selfish he’d been in the weeks and months shortly after their return from Paris.

His heart tightened as he reflected just how much uncertainty Marian must have suffered in those weeks and months. When she realized she was pregnant, she must have been terrified, not only of his reaction, but also of going through another loss. He could have tried a hell of lot harder to breach the distance that had seemed so incomprehensible and unfair to him at the time. Because Harold had attributed her estrangement entirely to embarrassment over their scandalous lovemaking, he got dangerously distracted by the sycophantic smiles of another woman he would have quickly lost interest in if he’d done the unforgivable and pursued an affair. If he’d paid even just a little more attention to his ailing wife, he could have figured out a whole lot sooner that she feared him discovering her pregnancy and taking the news badly.

As to the librarian’s question, the plain truth of the matter is that when they were in Paris, Harold hadn’t been thinking, he’d been wanting. Wanting Marian, wanting to make love to her as frequently and spontaneously as they had during the earliest days of their marriage, without any barriers whatsoever between them. Had he wanted to make a baby with her? Not rationally, because it was something he never would have planned at his age, as hale and hearty as he still was. But when was wanting ever rational? Deep down, he _had_ wanted another child, even though he’d dismissed the idea as a patently unwise fancy.

“You must know I wasn’t intending to trap you into fatherhood,” Marian entreated, after the silence stretched on too long even for a lady of her prodigious patience.

Eager to make amends for failing to promptly assuage her concerns, Harold pulled her close and buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I wanted this baby just as much as you did,” he averred, slipping one of his hands between them to cup her round stomach. “Even if practicality might have dictated otherwise, I think I was trying in Paris, too. Because if ever there was a perfect time for us to have another baby, this would be it. Despite the development of a few more gray hairs and wrinkles, my health continues to be excellent. Our daughters are no longer children who require extensive looking after, so you won’t have to give up the library, and we can keep more of the income because Winthrop is now a full partner in supporting your mother financially.” He sighed. “I know what I said before when we talked about it all those years ago, but I never stopped wanting another child, either. I wish I could have been brave enough to tell you that. I completely understand why you doubted me.”

“I didn’t doubt _you_,” Marian insisted, her eyes glowing with that lovely self-assurance that he always liked to see and did his best to foster in her. “And I wasn’t keeping any secrets from you that I wasn’t also keeping from myself. I had my suspicions since at least July, of course, but I couldn’t bring myself to fully acknowledge that I could be pregnant until it was definitively confirmed by Dr. Pyne.”

As Harold’s hands continued to caress her stomach, he traced soft, sweet kisses along the line of her jaw and down the side of her neck. “We both made mistakes, and we’ll both do better in the future,” he promised. “In the meantime, we’ll make today as good as we can – so good that yesterday gets jealous.”

Marian laughed, her voice as lovely and elegant as tinkling bells. “In that case, Professor Hill, we still have one more conundrum to resolve. You likened me to a goddess earlier, but I don’t believe we ever determined which one.”

Harold grinned. “Well, how terribly thoughtless of me! As a matter of fact, I did overhear Jane’s most recent conversation about Grecian goddesses with Jim Hearst. They spent a great deal of time enumerating the qualities of Selene, the Titan goddess of the moon. As the patron of femininity, she was known to have the power to ease childbirth, inspire love, mask reality, and pierce illusion. And even more fittingly, a crescent moon is the symbol of fertility.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “If I’m Selene, that would make you my Endymion. They were said to have fifty children together.”

“Fifty children?” Harold exclaimed in mock-horror. “Perhaps I ought to call you Diana instead – goddess of the moon _and_ the hunt.”

That delicious smirk of hers widened. “Shall you be my faun, then?”

Her mischievous remark stirred an even older memory, of him standing tall and proud and cocksure in the livery stable, crowing to Marcellus Washburn that he would never, _ever_ play such a role to any woman. Not only had he never been so exceedingly wrong in his life, he’d never been so grateful to be mistaken. _Plop goes the fish_, he thought happily. Marian would never have wanted to trap him that way, which was exactly why he’d leaped into the boat of his own free will.

Normally, he would have continued their teasing, but right now he wanted something a little more substantial than lighthearted banter. “I’ll be whoever you want me to be, Marian,” he said earnestly. “Whatever you need from me, I’ll gladly give you.”

His words had the desired effect: the impish gleam in her eyes faded, and her arms tightened around him. “I just want _you_, Harold Gregory Hill.”

“Then I’m yours,” he assured her, rolling over onto his back and bringing her along until she was positioned astride him. She was as wet as he was hard, and he slid right into her. He would have rolled her beneath him, but her stomach had gotten too round for that and, what’s more, he wanted to show her that he truly meant what he said. They couldn’t moan their pleasure _too_ loudly, lest they wake up their daughters, but Harold didn’t need to hear Marian when he could see the way she looked at him as they made love. He was hers and she was his, and they silently but ardently affirmed this bond beneath the enchanting light of the autumn Hunter’s Moon.


End file.
